When Green Was Just a Colour
by Random Ravenclaw91
Summary: There was a time when I used to be understood and cared about, but that was long ago, and I try not to remember. But wishes don't come true… Especially not my own. RodolphusOC


My brother looked unusually uncomfortable as he sat down next to me, a piece of parchment clutched in his hand.

"Er, Rodolphus?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, what?" I asked, my voice a bit more harsh than normal; that look on my brother's face was always a warning sign.

I was a fourth-year, while he was in his final year. He wasn't the best student, but _one_ of the best. His teachers loved him though, which was definitely the reason behind the Head Boy badge pinned to his robes. I, however, was smarter, but didn't care at all if my teachers liked me, as long as they gave me the grades I deserved.

He was more than just the teachers' pet — he was by far the favourite of my parents as well. He not only absorbed their not-so-subtle teachings against Mudbloods, but added to it his own love of violence.

He would be a Death Eater.

I supposed I probably would be someday too. I didn't really want to or care to be, but it was inevitable. I tried not to think of it much, actually.

"I need to talk to you," he answered needlessly.

I let my hair fall partially in front of my eyes, because I knew it bothered him. It just amused me to no end to see his expression turn angry. I couldn't see any reason for him to be irritated by the gesture, and the only plausible explanation I could come up with was that he was jealous of my straight hair, while his was strangely curly.

"Rodolphus, stop being such an ass."

"Fine, then, dearest brother, tell me whatever you need to." With those words, I leaned back on my chair and propped my feet up casually.

"You're acting like a Gryffindor," he spat.

"Wow, harsh, Rabastan," I said, rolling my eyes. "Just tell me whatever Mum and Father told you to say."

"I'm supposed to tell you that you should be… stronger in your convictions about Mudbloods."

"God, you know I hate Mudbloods and all that tosh. What else is there?"

"You don't seem… sincere," he answered, his eyes narrowing.

I rolled my eyes again and sat up.

"Look, just because I'm not unstable enough to go out on a killing spree every day of my life like you, doesn't mean that I don't _believe_ it."

"But don't you see?" he said, his eyes large as he too leaned forward. "It doesn't matter all that much if you believe it or not — you have to _act_ on it, or you're no help at all."

"To… the Dark Lord?" I asked, for some reason still finding the conversation hilarious. He was too serious about the whole thing. Becoming a Death Eater wasn't at the top of my list of priorities. When the time came, I would surely find a way to be loyal. But for now I just wanted to finish my Transfiguration essay.

"Rodolphus, this _isn't funny_! Why do you have to make everything into a joke?"

"Why do you constantly have to lecture me about the need to go kill Mudbloods? I don't care if they live or die, as long as I don't have to be around them too often." All humour was gone from my face as I said it.

"You're a Slytherin, Rodolphus, and you must—"

"Not all Slytherins are evil, in case you haven't noticed," I spat. But my eyes unconsciously flickered around the room, and the dark green colour was reflected everywhere. The way Rabastan made it seem, all Slytherins were supposed believe this. Maybe a lot of them did, but not all of them. There was a group that seemed to be really good, and even talked to _Hufflepuffs_ sometimes… Maybe I refused to speak to them, but didn't that prove that such Slytherins existed?

"Let me just explain it to you. I'll tell Mother if you don't."

"Going to go running to Mummy, are you?" I asked, widening my eyes and making my voice disgustingly sweet. But the next moment I just leaned back and said sarcastically, "Fine, Rabastan. Impart your multitudes of wisdom upon me."

"Mudbloods are animals, Rodolphus, and they deserve to die. They're freaks — we don't know how they became magical. You know they should be eradicated. Purebloods like us deserve to rule, since our lineage is perfect, flawless, not tarnished by any disgusting Muggles—"

"Rabastan, I've heard the story numerous times. I know the reasons. And I agree. Someday I'll join your wonderful Death Eaters and go to town. But until then, stop being annoying."

He glared at me. "You know, our parents wanted me to court Bellatrix once—"

I stood up abruptly. "Don't you dare," I said, my eyes large with hatred. "You know — you know how I feel about her."

"I do know, but do you honestly think she would ever fall for you if you weren't a Death Eater?"

I stood there with my mouth open, realising that he was right. Bella believed everything Rabastan just said, and we all knew she would be a Death Eater. I looked around the common room as I sunk into my seat, defeated. Then I saw her. Her black hair was long and shining, and her face was beautiful, especially now when she thought no one was watching. Her pale hands made quick work of whatever homework assignment she was doing.

"Rabastan, you can tell Mother and Father that I want nothing more than to be a Death Eater," I answered quietly, putting my face in my hands.

"Wonderful," he answered. I couldn't look at him as he left.

--

I decided to take a stroll around the castle. There was nothing else to do anymore. Any doors that might have been open were slammed shut. I always knew I would be a Death Eater, but there was always this possibility that I could do something else. I had plotted elaborate schemes where I would run away — leave the country. I was planning to never come back, to avoid all contact. These plans all flew out the window whenever I was in around Bellatrix, because she was… perfect, and I was in love with her. I was only fifteen, but I knew it was true. It was pathetic how obsessed I was with her, but there was no one else, and never would be.

And now I had agreed to my future, so the plans had to be forgotten. They had been comforting while they lasted; I loved the sense of self they gave me, that wonderful feeling that I had some semblance of control over where I was going.

Not anymore.

My eyes fell to the floor and I no longer looked where I was going. It didn't matter, because I would never lead myself again.

Unfortunately, I ran right into someone else, and knocked us both to the ground.

"Oh God, I'm sorry!" I exclaimed, taking her hands and pulling her up.

"No, I'm sorry," she answered. "I wasn't paying attention."

"Neither was I," I said.

Then she brushed her hair back from her face and I got to look fully at her.

She was fairly plain-looking, with a round, innocent face and light-blue eyes. Her hair was reddish-blonde in unruly curls. She was short, but extraordinarily thin. Just looking at her made me want to pelt her with candy. Still, she was very kind looking, and she was gazing at me with concerned eyes.

"Are you all right?" I asked her, wanting her to stop staring at me.

"Yes, of course, I'm fine." She had a beautiful voice, if nothing else. It was so soft I felt like I had to strain my ears to hear, but at the same time it was hypnotic and I had no desire to stop listening.

"Sorry, but who are you?"

"Becca Wortham," she answered pleasantly, a large smile coming over her face. Her smile lit up her face and made her almost look beautiful.

"I'm Rodolphus Lestrange."

Her eyes grew even wider if that were possible, and she took a shaky step back until she was against the wall of the passageway where we had collided.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked, probably more harshly than I should've.

"You're a Lestrange! And I'm a… Well, your brother is quite evil to Muggle-borns."

"He's quite evil to everyone," I answered without thinking too deeply about her words, but then I gave a small noise of surprise as her meaning sunk in. "Oh! You're a Mud — Muggle-born."

"Yes," she answered primly, but she wouldn't move from against the wall and she seemed about ready to bolt like she was a rabbit or something.

"Why in hell are you standing like that?" I snapped, losing my temper. "I'm not going to hurt you. Why does everyone think I'm just like Rabastan?" I felt blood rush into my face.

"Well, you're his brother," she answered, and I turned a cold glare to her. "I mean, if people didn't know you they'd probably think you'd be just like him — you know, becoming a Death Eater and everything…"

"I am going to be a Death Eater," I told her sullenly, and backed up against my own wall and sunk down to the ground. "Go ahead, you can run away now if you want." Just to prove to her that she could, I tossed my wand a few feet away and then buried my face in my hands just like I had done just an hour before in front of my brother. This time, though, I felt my throat get raw and a strange feeling came into my eyes.

I felt a gentle hand on my arm, and I looked up and saw the girl sitting right in front of me with a look of distress.

"Get away from me," I exclaimed, yanking my arm away from her hand. "What do you think you're doing, Mudblood?"

"You're the one crying in the hall!" she answered, not looking as offended as I would have guessed.

"I'm not crying!" I answered vehemently. "And who the hell are you to care anyone? No one's ever cared — so why start now?"

"What do you mean 'no one's ever cared'?"

"Just what I said. What House are you in? Gryffindor?"

"Hufflepuff."

"Seriously?"

"Would I lie?" she asked, finally looking a bit offended because of my disgusted face. I'm sorry, but I hated Hufflepuffs.

"Well, Hufflepuff, I'm sure your life is just perfect and jolly, but not everyone's can be."

"What happened to you?" she asked, frowning with something like worry in her eyes.

"Why should I tell you?"

"You need to talk, and I'll listen." Then she moved so that she was sitting right next to me, completely focused on me. Her bright eyes confused me for a moment, and, without knowing why I was telling _her_, the Hufflepuff and the Mudblood, I began to speak.

"You were right, my brother is evil. He and my parents have let me know numerous times that I had to be a Death Eater, and I've known it — forever. There was this one time…"

"What happened?" she asked softly.

"I was really young — five, maybe — and my father was gone with the Dark Lord," I began, not looking at her as I told her more about myself than I had ever told anyone, "and I climbed up onto the mantle where there was our family crest. It was green with a snake and a few other things, and my brother came in and saw me. He was eight then, and he just seemed so much older, you know? So I got down, and I thought of the Black family crest that I had seen, and I asked my brother why ours was green.

" 'It's the colour of purebloods,' he answered. 'It's the colour of power and domination and Slytherin.'

" 'Slytherin?' I asked.

" 'At Hogwarts,' he answered. 'It's the House we have to be in, because they'll teach us the way we have to grow up so that we can be like Father.'

"At the time I thought of Father, and how mean he was. I thought that I didn't really want to be like him, not really, but even then I knew that I should, because… because I had to. I think that I thought of the crest, and how I had to follow it. Even at five years old I couldn't escape it."

I sighed and breathed deeply. "Go on," she whispered, her hand on my leg. At first I wanted to move away, but then I allowed it because it was strangely comforting.

"Well, then I was eleven," I continued, my voice quiet. "I came to Hogwarts after Rabastan had been here three years. Of course he was in Slytherin, and he was exactly the child my parents wanted. I pretended to be like him, and my parents never really knew that I wasn't. They must have sensed something wasn't really there, because they never liked me as much as they liked Rabastan. He was their favourite, but I didn't mind.

"I sat on the stool with the Sorting Hat on my head. Rabastan told me that the Hat hardly had to touch his head before it announced that he was Slytherin.

"It took a lot longer for me. At first it tried to put me in _Gryffindor_. I was practically yelling at it inside my head because I knew I couldn't be. But for a long time it stubbornly refused to budge. 'You are a Gryffindor,' it told me. 'You belong in that House as much as your brother belonged in Slytherin.' Eventually it listened to me, and I thought, of course, that its second choice would be Slytherin. 'You have a great mind,' it told me. 'You would fit well in Ravenclaw.' Ravenclaw wouldn't have been as bad as Gryffindor, but I had to beg the hat not to put me there either. I asked for Slytherin over and over again. 'Slytherin?' the Hat asked. 'I don't think you belong there.' I told it I had to be there, so it agreed, finally. So I was sorted into a House I didn't belong in, not really.

"Sometimes my brother tells me that I'm acting like a Gryffindor, and those are the times I know I'm acting too much like myself. It's so hard to pretend all the time." I stopped speaking and sat there silently for a moment. It was strange telling my story, because I never had before.

"What happened today?" she asked.

"Today my brother told me that I had to agree that I would be a Death Eater someday, and I told him I would, because I've always known it. It isn't as though today's the first time it's been brought up. And I told him yes, but maybe he didn't believe me or something, because he said something…"

"What?"

"Something about Bellatrix Black." She seemed to shudder a bit at the thought. "What?" I asked.

"Well, Bellatrix is in my year" —a year below mine— "and she's really, really evil, Rodolphus. Worse than your brother, even—"

"I know," I snapped.

"Well, what did he say about her?" she prompted. I wanted to tell her to go die or something, but it felt strangely good to finally be able to tell someone everything, so I didn't.

"He sort of hinted that if I never became a Death Eater, she would never… accept me."

"You mean you want her?" she gasped, her voice finally louder than a murmur.

"Bella is… perfect," I answered.

"Perfect? She's pure evil!" she exclaimed, sitting up on her heels as if ready to run away at any moment.

"Of course she is! Don't you get it? She's _exactly_ who I want to be. She's the type of person who I would _kill_ to be. I mean, God, I'm in love with her."

"You're fifteen — you can't be in love with her."

I shrugged. "You had a chance to be a kid, didn't you? I _never_ did. From the moment I learned green wasn't just a colour, I had to be an adult."

"Don't you think you'd be better off with someone who understands you? Someone who thinks green _is_ just a colour?"

"No," I answered, shrugging. "Because now I have my future. I'll be a Death Eater, I'll marry Bellatrix, and green… will never be just a colour again. I need Bella, don't you see? She's the only one who can make my future something that isn't terrible."

"You future is terrible," she said, her voice begging.

"Thanks for telling me," I growled.

"You know you don't want to do this."

"Of course I don't!" I yelled. "Why would I? I'm _fifteen_! It shouldn't be like this — _I_ shouldn't be like this. But it doesn't matter what should or shouldn't be, because it _is_, okay? You think I don't hate it? You think I don't know how wrong it is that parents would force their children to agree to this? Of course I know — I've always known it. But it doesn't matter if I agree now or when I'm twenty, because the end result will be the same. It doesn't matter that I'm smart and could do… anything." Then my face was in my hands again, and I began to breathe harshly. Soon I even felt tears escape my eyes; I couldn't remember the last time I had cried. All I knew was that it was horribly painful, and that the fault was definitely that of the girl beside me. She was trying to break me, show me that there was another way. But there wasn't.

Her hand was on my arm now, and her head was on my shoulder. Suddenly I jumped up — I was being pathetic. I quickly wiped my eyes.

"I have to go," I said coldly.

"Good luck, Rodolphus," she answered, watching me as I turned to walk away.

I walked straight back to the Slytherin common room, feeling like a terrible person and a traitor. I had just had one of the most in-depth conversations of my life with a Hufflepuff, a Mudblood who hated everyone like me. But there was definitely some sort of attraction to her, because she was the only one who had understood.

--

"I thought you might be back," she said the next day, sitting in the same place we had the day before.

"I didn't come back to talk," I insisted.

"I figured."

"I came to say that I am sorry that I was such a bastard. I shouldn't have treated you like that — you were just being nice." It felt so stupid to be apologising to her.

"I understand," she said, smiling a little.

"Thanks — for everything. Especially for understanding." My voice was calm, indifferent. Yesterday had been emotional, but today was not.

"You're welcome. I'm always here to listen and help you."

"That's also what I want to talk to you about… This — what's happening right here and what happened yesterday — it can never happen again. Not ever."

"Why?"

I stared at her hurt eyes and the way her hand reached toward me as if she wanted to grab my hand. Her eyes made me want to re-think everything I had already decided on.

"I can't risk it," I answered. "You make me want to give up everything to be the person you think I'm supposed to be—"

"The person I know you _are_," she corrected with shining eyes.

"It doesn't matter, because that's not who I will be. I'll never talk to you again, and I'll pretend I don't even know your name. When I met you, you were just a Mudblood, and I guess that's how it has to be again… And forever."

"But—"

"_No_!" I cried. "Don't you see that I _can't_? God, pick someone else — anyone else. You're good, and being with me would ruin you. I don't want to destroy your life the way they crushed mine."

A few tears fell down her face as she stood before me.

"Well, bye, Becca… Good-bye."

"I'll miss you, Rodolphus," she whispered, breathing harshly.

Without even considering it, I bent down and brought my lips to hers just for a moment.

"I wish…" I started, but then didn't finish. Instead, I turned away and ran.

How she looked when I left is still implanted into my mind. I can still see her there, her blue eyes wide with tears, her small body leaning forward as if she wanted to follow, and her face etched with a deep sorrow.

There would never be anyone to talk to like that, no one who would care or understand. I left the one person who could have given me happiness and hope for a future I didn't want, but had to have.


End file.
